


Caught

by DaisyFairy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Caught, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Developing Relationship, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Revelations, Unexpected Visitors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-25 23:49:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20034358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyFairy/pseuds/DaisyFairy
Summary: John comes home early and discovers Sherlock doing something unexpected. One revelation leads to another and John realises that there is more to Sherlock's relationships than he expected.





	Caught

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Sherlock Challenge July 2019 prompt: Caught Red Handed.

John shuffled through the front door of 221 Baker Street as quietly as he could to avoid waking Rosie, who was currently sleeping in his arms. He closed the door with his hip and took a second to make sure she was settled against his shoulder before moving any further. She let out a rasping cough and snuffled against him but didn’t wake.

He slowly set off the up the steps to the flat he had recently moved back into with Sherlock. Halfway up the stairs he heard Sherlock’s voice from inside the flat, it was too quiet to make out words, and was over before John really had time to process, but it sounded like he was in pain. Then an answering voice, again no words, but definitely a second person.

John froze and his breathing picked up. He was horribly torn, wanting desperately to run in and make sure that Sherlock was safe, but with Rosie there he just couldn’t risk it.

He started a slow creep back downstairs to leave Rosie with Mrs Hudson, when he heard Sherlock call out, “Left foot yellow! You’ll never manage that.”

John's eyes widened in disbelief, and he changed direction again, upstairs this time, but just as quietly. If Sherlock was really doing what John thought he was doing he didn’t want to give him any chance to hide before he got to see.

As he got closer he heard some grunting, and then a triumphant , “Yes!” from the other man. John stood behind the door to the living room and heard the man say, “Your turn, right hand red.”

A second later there was a heavy thumping sound and two voices groaning simultaneously. John burst into the room to be greeted by the sight of Sherlock and Mycroft tangled in a heap on the floor of the living room on top of a Twister mat.

As if that sight wasn’t unexpected enough, John was astounded to note that instead of the usual impeccable suit that Mycroft has worn every time he has ever seen him , he was instead dressed in jogging bottoms and a t-shirt. Less astounding although unusual enough for John to take note, is that Sherlock was likewise in jogging bottoms and a t-shirt. Both brothers were looking flushed and sweaty from their exertions, and had matching expression of horror in their faces at the sight of John in the doorway.

After a second Mycroft sprung to his feet and stammered out a brief, “Doctor Watson.” by way of greeting as he jammed on a pair of trainers that had been discarded haphazardly under the coffee table.

He fled down the stairs without even a second glance at the new arrivals to the flat. The front door slammed behind him and made John wince, but thankfully Rosie slept through the noise.

Sherlock still hadn’t moved from his awkward sprawl when John turned to him, slack jawed and eyes full of questions.

Neither man said anything for nearly half a minute, and when Sherlock eventually opened his mouth John shook his head and indicated the bundle in his arms. He carried her to bed and settled her down, checked her temperature and then returned to find Sherlock still on the floor, although he seemed to have managed to get his limbs under control while John was gone.

John raised an eyebrow and Sherlock swiftly stammered, “It’s not what it looks like.”

“No?”

“No. Honestly, I hate him. He’s an awful, terrible brother.”

“Really?” Johns voice dripped with scepticism.

“He, uh, he forced me into it.”

John sucked his lip and watched Sherlock squirm.

“I, he, we,” Sherlock struggled and then his shoulders dropped in defeat, “OK, fine. I don’t hate him. He’s, he’s my brother ok? He's always been my best friend. We both live dangerous lives so its just best all around if no one knows that we actually like each other.”

“Plus it would mess with the whole cool mysterious front you both like to put up.”

Sherlock shrugged.

John laughed, and only stopped himself when he realised he was in danger of waking Rosie.

Sherlock clambered to his feet and straightened his clothing, “You’re not even supposed to be here.”

“The nursery called, Rosie has a temperature so I left work early to bring her home.”

Sherlock’s face fell and he turned towards the stairs up to John’s room where Rosie was sleeping.

John hurried to reassure him, “She’s fine. There’s just a cold going around.”

“Oh, good. Tea?”

John nodded and tagged along behind him to the kitchen. “So, I’m not your best friend, or your only friend. Although that was a load of bollocks anyway.”

“No, you’re much more important than that”

“Am I?”

Sherlock hummed vaguely affirmatively in lieu of a proper reply.

John narrowed his eyes at him, “What am I then? That’s more important than a brother and best friend?”

Sherlock smiled widely, “You’re my husband of course. I just haven’t finished convincing you yet.”

John tried to stammer out a denial but Sherlock continued.

“You came back to me, and now we have our own family. We live together, raise a daughter together, eat together, spend all our spare time together, and look after each other. Of course you’re my husband.”

John realised his mouth was hanging open and managed to close it on the second try. What could he say to that really? It was all true, and Sherlock hadn’t even mentioned John’s almost pathological protectiveness over the annoying git, or the slightly worrying amount of time that John spent noticing every little detail about Sherlock’s appearance, which hopefully he wasn’t aware of.

Sherlock flashed him another grin and turned his back to make the tea, turning his head to say, “I’m glad you caught us actually, hiding our friendship from you was excruciating. I’d have told you ages ago, but Mycroft wouldn’t hear of it. I’ll invite him to dinner tomorrow.”

He turned and handed John his tea, then exclaimed “Oh! He can bring his spreadsheet about why we should get married, it’s a work of art.”

John was left standing in the kitchen, mug in hand and expression of disbelief frozen on his face, wondering how long it would take before the brothers managed to convince him to go through with this, and whether he even wanted to try to resist.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this little bit of silliness, I'd love to hear your comments ☺


End file.
